Explosions
by Brissi
Summary: Noel Delaney has always been a live wire, so it's no surprise that she's slated for death. But what she discovers is a world called Artime, where she can draw, sing, and dance. But her world is threatened by an outside force, intent on capturing her and her friends. In order to survive, she must find a way to defeat the mysterious force that has its eye trained on Artime.
1. Prologue

_In a world of marching, where can you dance?_

_In a world of destruction, where can you create?_

_In a world of sobbing, where can you find music?_

_Why, in Artime, of course._

Noël sat in her parents' backyard, curled up against the fence with her arms wrapped around her knees and her toes dug into the crumbling earth of Quill. Nothing grew from the infertile soil, and anything that took root was soon wiped out by the heat or by a careless Quillan foot. But still she had tried. Tried to make something beautiful out of this hateful world. Tried to nurture and care for the tiny sprout that now lay torn from the ground in front of her. She stared at it, unable to believe that something she had fought for and painstakingly coaxed from the ground could be ended so swiftly. Over and over she saw her mother watching on disapprovingly as her father leaned down and wrapped his clumsy fist around the delicate shoot. Over and over she saw it ripped carelessly from the ground, dirt clinging to its torn roots. She saw her father throw it across the barren expanse, watched as it flopped limply to the ground. Her parents had scolded her, warned her with an infraction, but all Noël could think about was her precious rose laying there dying. Hours later, she hadn't moved. A tear crept down her face, carving a trail through the dusty grime that coated her face and eventually falling from her chin. It landed with a plink on the ground and slowly faded, sucked up by the thirsty earth. Noël laughed bitterly; she was watering the earth with her tears. Another laugh tore from her throat, again with no humor in it. It occurred to her that no one ever laughed in Quill. So she laughed again.

She laughed harder, forcing the happy sound out of her mouth and twisting it so that it was anything but happy. But still she was laughing, doing something no Quillan would do. It made her feel better. Somehow her laughter was striking back against her parents, the High Priest, the oppressiveness she felt every day of her life. And suddenly she was up, running for the back door of her house, her bare feet pounding the dusty ground. She didn't look back at her rose as she barged through the back door, because she feared if she hesitated now she might lose her nerve. It gave her a thrill to let the door slam back against the wall, and it made Noël laugh to push past her mother on her wild race down the hallway. She heard an angry shout behind her, but she didn't stop. She reached the front door and yanked it open, surprising her father who was just returning from the market. She shoved past him, sending the meager supply of food in his arms crashing to the ground, and took off down the walk. Her father gave an angry cry too, but like her mother Noël ignored it. The lopsided fence that surrounded their lawn loomed in front of her and the gate hung half-open, but pushing through the gate wouldn't be good enough. She had to do something wild, rebellious, so she vaulted over the fence and landed with a slight stumble on the other side. She laughed and took off running down the street. No one ever ran in Quill either.

She wasn't quite sure where she was going, but she knew it had to be somewhere public. Somewhere with lots of people to see what she was about to do. As she made for the more populated parts of Quill, the crowds became thicker and harder to navigate, but that didn't slow Noël. She pushed recklessly through the sea of bodies, earning a few choice words and shoves in return, but she forged on. And suddenly it hit her, the perfect spot. She changed course, ducking sideways into a narrow alley, and sped up now that no one was in her way. The alley was short and soon she was out in the open again, but the entire feel of the buildings around her had changed. She was in the Wanted part of town now. Here, the houses weren't quite so dilapidated and buckets of water sat on most of the doorsteps. Feeling like wreaking havoc, Noël flitted up the steps of one house and plunged her head into a bucket, taking long, thirsty gulps of water. When she was finished, she straightened and shoved the bucket over, spilling water down the front steps of the house. Wiping her mouth, she ran laughing down the street, spotting a few horrified looks from other Wanteds. She could practically hear their thoughts: 'Who is that filthy Necessary girl contaminating our water supply?'

"No-ël, No-ël," she sang, _wanting_ them to know and _hoping_ she was caught.

She ran for a few more blocks before she reached the main square, where the majority of the Wanteds gathered to talk, shop, and think about how important they were, how _Wanted_ they were. In the center of the square sat a fountain, but no water bubbled from the top. Why should there, when water was so hard to come by anyway? The High Priest would be stupid to keep the fountain running and waste all that precious water. At least it could serve a purpose now. Noël darted through the mass of people and reached the fountain. A few Wanteds sat on its edge, but most of the people in the square stuck to the sides, where there was more shade and less sun beaming down on them. Noël leaped onto the hot bricks, startling a trio of Wanted boys, looking awfully sweaty and prissy in their crisp Quillitary uniforms. They flinched away from her, making Noël laugh, and they looked so shocked at the sound that she laughed again. And then she began to sing.

_"March, march, speak not a sound._

_Footsteps, sunlight, all around._

_Well, listen here, to my new song._

_It's called 'The Things That Quill Does Wrong'"_

The entire square had stopped and fallen silent, but that didn't scare Noël. Honestly, they should be impressed. She'd made that up on the fly.

_"March, march away from here. _

_Parents, don't you shed a tear. _

_They're Unwanted because of you. _

_But you won't miss them, ain't it true?"_

Sloppy, she thought, but it didn't matter. She was singing, and that's what counted. She could see guards making their way from the edge of the square towards her, so she belted out another verse.

_"March, march, into the pit._

_ Don't you worry, not a bit. _

_We won't feel a single sting. _

_Because we got the chance to sing._

Suddenly hands seized her arms and yanked her roughly off the edge of the fountain, and Noël went willingly. There was no point in resisting when all these people outweighed her by fifty pounds at least. The crowd of frozen Wanteds parted before them like she carried some disease, and she laughed out loud. Her voice echoed throughout the silent square, and she gave a mocking bow.

"Thank you, thank you so much," she laughed, nearly being pulled off her feet by the two guards as they hurried to get her out of the square. Her toe caught on a cobblestone and she stumbled, but she forced another laugh. Her next words, she sang: "Thank you for your time. I'll see you at the Purge."

And with that she was yanked forcefully out of the square, leaving a gaping hole of silence in her wake. She was marched down the street and down a sidestreet to get back to the Necessary part of town- _March, march_, Noël thought with a smirk. When they reached the familiar sagging buildings that were home, she expected to be released, but the two guards didn't loosen their grip on her arms. She wriggled uncomfortably, but that simply made them hang on tighter, and she winced at the slight pain. It seemed they were going to walk her home personally, probably to let her parents know the horrific thing she'd done. Noël laughed again. What was it with her and laughing today? It's like she'd pulled the plug on something and she couldn't stop it back up again.

"Calm down, I'm not going to run," she sang, but the guards ignored her.

"Where do you live?" the taller one snapped gruffly, and Noël ripped her arm free to point. After the Wanted sector, her house seemed pitiful and sad, with its unpainted fence and broken gate.

The taller guard nodded and burst in through the front gate, his lip curling in barely concealed disgust. The group marched up the front walk and the shorter guard raised a tense fist to pound on the door. The door rattled on its hinges and Noël heard something clatter to the floor inside. She could imagine what was running through her parents' heads. No one ever came to a Necessary house unless there was trouble or unless something amazing had happened. After a quick second footsteps approached the door and it swung open, Noël's mother peering around it. Noël gave a bright wave. Her mother's face went from cautious to horrified in two seconds flat, which Noël found impressive.

"What can I do for you?" she asked hoarsely, her face pale as she gazed at her daughter.

"Your daughter was caught singing in the Wanted square," the taller guard barked out, and Noël's mother paled further, if that was possible.

"Was she?" she choked out.

"Yes. I will be filing an infraction with the High Priest. Her name?"

"Her name is Noël Delaney," Noël quipped, but she was ignored. The taller guard stared pointedly at her mother.

"Noël Delaney," her mother said, her voice barely above a whisper.

The taller guard nodded and, as if on cue, the pair shoved Noël forward into her mother, who made no move to catch her. By the time she had recovered her balance, the guards had already strode down the walk and exited through the front gate, which now only hung on the top hinge. Noël flipped a jaunty salute at them and turned to face her mother, who was gazing at her with a look of blank horror.

"What were you thinking?" she whispered, but Noël didn't hang around to hear the answer. She shoved past her mother and fled for the stairs, taking them two at a time to reach her room, which was at the end of the hall. She burst in through the door, letting it bang against the wall before spinning around to slam it shut. The bang echoed throughout the entire house and Noël burst into tears.


	2. Out With a Bang

Noël woke early on the day of the Purge, the sun not even beginning to light the sky above the barbed wire. She sat up and gazed around at her room, her heart already lodged in her throat even though she'd only been awake for a few moments. She was going to die today. Of course, she couldn't tell for sure, but anyone with half a brain could figure it out. After her stunt in the Wanted sector, the infractions had come fast and furious, and for things as simple as humming on her way to school. She had to have at least fifty different infractions now, starting with the singing episode and ending with a drawing she'd made in her room yesterday of a raindrop on her window. She could picture clearly the resigned look on her mother's face when she'd found the drawing. She knew it too, that Noël was a dead girl walking, and she'd long since accepted it as fact.

A tear leaked out of her right eye and made its way down her face, but it never go the chance to fall. It was wiped away before it could reach the corner of her mouth and discarded. Noël threw the covers back and stood, furiously blinking away the remaining tears that had hesitated in her eyes, and once they were gone she took a deep, steadying breath. She refused to cry today. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction of reducing her to a sobbing heap, she would be strong. _Fighting back to the end_, she thought with a bitter smile. She crossed to her dresser and surveyed her outfits, but none of them seemed right. They were all muted colors, meek and submissive, and that wasn't how Noël wanted to go out. So she slammed the drawer shut and strode back over to her bed, getting down on her knees. Reaching underneath, she pulled out a medium sized box that held one of her secrets. She seemed to be creating more and more these days. She plucked the lid off and smiled. _Now that's more like it._

The dress, sewn by her own hand, was colored brightly in a kaleidoscope of colors: reds, yellows, oranges, pinks, and the skirt flared out in a dramatic fashion. She'd be impossible to miss, and even better she would get to see the High Priest's expression when Noël showed up wearing every single color that was tacitly banned from Quill. It was perfect. She grabbed it and stood, admiring the brilliant patterns that were patched across the fabric. It had taken lots of failed attempts and smuggled thread to create her masterpiece, and it seemed only right that she wore it to the Purge. Noël pulled off her nightdress and began to get ready.

Noël didn't normally do anything to her hair, but today she was anything but normal. Once she had the dress on, she waited until her parents were downstairs and darted down the hallway to the bathroom, shutting herself in. Her long, platinum blonde hair was naturally wavy, but most of the time she kept it tied back in a ponytail. Not today. She pulled out a brush and ran it through her hair, watching the weak sunlight play off her hair. With each stroke the ratty look common to most Necessaries was brushed away and a luminescent sheen crept into her long blonde locks. Once she was finished, she almost didn't recognize the pretty girl in the mirror. She smiled and tossed her hair over one shoulder, watching it shimmer, then whirled around and stalked out of the bathroom- and straight into her father. She stumbled back and managed to catch herself on the bathroom door, and when she looked up at her father's face, she had to laugh.

"Surprise," she sang, and darted past him, running for her room in bare feet.

"Noël, get back here!" he yelled after her, but Noël didn't stop until she was in her room and the door was locked. Her father banged his fist on the door, but Noël didn't pay him any attention. She pulled on a pair of plain brown sandals and ran her fingers through her hair one last time. This was it. Noël walked to the door and pulled it open, not looking back at her room of thirteen years and looking ahead at her future, however short it was.

Her father had left her door and gone back downstairs, but she could hear him talking with her mother, both of their voices raised at each other. Noël smirked and padded lightly down the stairs, not bothering to tell her parents that she was leaving. They didn't care anyway, whether she lived or died. So Noël walked to the front door and pushed out into the hot, dusty, Quill air, letting the door swing shut behind her with a bang. The sound of her parents' voices ended abruptly and a few seconds later she heard their footsteps behind her on the dusty stones. No one said a word.

As they got closer to the Commons, other thirteen-year-olds appeared at their sides, and every single one of them were dressed in muted colors and they walked with an uncertain step, like they weren't quite sure whether they would walk away from today or not. This gave Noël an advantage; she knew where she was going today and she wasn't afraid to flaunt it. She threw some attitude into her walk and the colors of her dress swirled like paint washed down the sink. She carried her chin high and confident, a smile playing at her lips whenever she looked around at the Necessaries and Wanteds with their vacant expressions. She caught plenty of horrified looks from the Wanteds, and just a few tiny smiles from other thirteen-year-olds who knew where they were going too. By the time Noël reached the Commons, she'd seen so many shocked looks that it was a struggle not to laugh.

Other thirteen-year-olds and their families lined the edges of the square, their expressions ranging from burning confidence to sobbing-on-the-floor hopelessness. Noël took an open place against an abandoned building and her parents slid in behind her, maintaining their distance like they could catch Unwanted from her. Once upon a time that might have hurt, but Noël was used to it. She hardly even regarded them as her parents anymore. They were just two Necessaries there to yell at her whenever she tripped up, which was often.

She heard the jalopy before she saw it, cresting the hill above them and trundling down into the square. The driver pulled up beside the temporary stage set up in the center of the space and the jalopy's engine cutting off with a grinding sound. A horrific stench filled the already toxic air, wafting over their heads before fading up through the barbed-wire roof of Quill. The square, already quiet as death, fell silent completely as the High Priest climbed out of the dilapidated vehicle and up the stairs to the podium, an envelope clutched in her hand. Noël couldn't help but swallow nervously. That was her future in Justine's hand after all. If she ran up to the High Priest and ripped the envelope from her hand, maybe she wouldn't have to die. Noël stiffened her spine and waited as Justine broke the seal to the envelope and drew out a list, the sunlight shining through the thin paper and illuminated black letters from the other side. Justine dove right into the names, no ceremony or speech, because this wasn't a ceremony, and it wasn't something that warranted a speech. It was a routine.

Justine read out a list of the Wanteds' names, but Noël didn't register any of them. Why should she care who lived when she died? A group of eleven children left the edges of the Commons and went to stand with the other Wanteds, looks of overwhelming relief on their faces. Justine paused just long enough for the new Wanteds to settle down, then continued down the list. Again, none of the names made any sense to Noël's ears. None of them were hers. She thought she'd banished all hope of being Necessary, but there was still a feeling of grief and anger in the back of her mind. Her eyes watered from disappointment, but she refused to cry. Instead she ran her hands along the fabric of her dress, making the colors swirl, and stared resolutely ahead.

"And the Unwanteds," Justine began with a deep breath, gathering enough air to last her the rest of the list. She read off the names of those who would die today, and after a few meaningless sounds, Noël heard her name. "… Noël Delaney, Gabrielle Douglas…"

It was strangely liberating, hearing it said out loud that she was going to be put to death. She didn't have to pretend anymore. Noël waited until the last name had been called, and then she stepped forward, tossing her hair over her shoulder. The other Unwanteds were standing quietly, waiting to be shackled and led to the bus that would take them to the Death Farm, and no one was expecting anything different. None of the Unwanteds ever tried to run. So in the time it took them to register that a girl in bright colors was walking towards their leader, Noël was able to reach an open space in front of the podium. The guards at the edge of the square started towards her, guns drawn, but Noël stopped before she got too close to Justine. She didn't look around at the Wanteds she knew were closing in on her, she just stared fearlessly up at the High Priest, who was staring back at her with surprise and contempt in her eyes. Spreading her skirt, Noël gave a mocking bow and laughed.

"It's been nice working with you," she said with a smirk, and then the guards reached her, wrapping their gloved hands around her arms and dragging her backwards to the edge of the square. "Don't miss me too terribly!" she added, raising her voice a little to cover the distance.

"Shut up," one of the guards muttered, but of course Noël ignored him.

"How's it feel to me a _murderer_?" she yelled as she was dragged to the line of shackles. Her arms were yanked roughly out in front of her and the heavy iron cuffs snapped closed around her wrists with a final grinding snap. "Murderer!"

"Shut up!" the guard snapped again, louder.

_"Sending kids off to their deaths,_

_Weaving songs with their last breaths._

_Call it Purging, I don't care._

_Murder, hon, and it's not fair."_

"Shut up!" cried the guard. Did Noël listen? Of course she didn't.

_"Farewell, good friend, one last good-bye,_

_Before you send me off to die._

_There's one mo-"_

In a desperate attempt to silence her, the guard reached out with one hand and slapped her- hard- across the face, sending her staggering back into the brick wall behind her. Noël cried out despite herself and her hands flew to her left cheek, but the chains kept them from reaching it. The guard looked slightly guilty, but he didn't say anything and instead yanked her back to her feet, then continued on down the line, shackling a few more Unwanteds before leading the way towards the bus. Noël felt like cringing, her cheek still stinging from the slap, but she didn't want to appear weak. _Go out with a bang_, she thought.

The first Unwanted in line reached the bus stairs and climbed awkwardly aboard, dragged back by the chain attached to his wrists, but he managed to traverse the stairs and disappear inside the rusty old bus. It was slow going, getting all the children on the bus, so Noël had plenty of time to get herself together before she had to climb the stairs as well. She thought she could feel eyes on her, so she glanced back to meet the gaze of High Priest Justine, who was watching her closely with narrowed eyes. Noël held the older woman's gaze and flashed her a smirk, then turned to step up onto the lowest step. The chain clanked on the stairs and tugged uncomfortably at her wrists, threatening to send her crashing to the ground, but she made it to the top of the stairs and turned to follow the boy in front of her.

She ended up sitting across from a boy, not the one in front of her, and she thought she saw him glance at her every now and then. _Probably_ _the_ _dress_, she thought. She glanced down at her lap, where her hands rested shackled together on the bright hues of her dress, then up at the bus seat in front of her. Now that she thought about it, she recognized the boy. Wasn't he one of the Governor's sons? And he was sitting on the bus being driven to the Death Farm. _Not_ _even_ _they_ _are_ _safe_. Once everyone was on the bus and sitting, the driver started up the rickety bus. The engine gave a sickly cough and reluctantly stirred to life, filling the bus with a low hum. With a sudden lurch, the bus jerked forward and pulled out of the Commons and drove off towards the Death Farm.


End file.
